love

Hold me or stab me...
Love me or hate me...

Constant thoughts that run through my head when I think about you. Do I care? Should I even bring my shattered self to even give a damn about you. I know the answer I would give right now... No

Its quite hard to even think of caring about you when the constant pound of war drums echo in my head. A sickening orchestra of wails of pain and sorrow. Eternal misery personified by the demon that exists within me. The unholy beast that gives me these migraines. That beast being my brain of course.

One of my favourite songs about suicide puts it the best, "The more I touch the less I feel, I'm lying to myself that it's not real". The more I hug you, the more I'm with you its a non stop path of self delusion to convince myself that I still feel for you. I'm constantly trying to convince myself that what I feel isn't real. That this emptiness has never happened.

To think I'm writing this while drinking vodka. Probably not the greatest of ideas but oh well. Is this a story or is it a confession. I honestly don't know. That's on you to judge. I'm retelling my story and hoping that you might understand and still love me for it. If you don't however, I totally understand.

Just know that since yesterday, I've been yet again planning suicide. I don't want this life. The people who are a part of it don't care anyway. I'll never be like the rest of you. Where I can feel. Not when this condition robs me of everything. Where I can turn into a ghost that doesn't care who anyone is. That ghost will attempt suicide someday. It's inevitable.

When I return to my body. I guess I'll have to do the cleanup work. All the blood pooling on the bathroom floor will be one hell of a mess to mop up.

But aside from my hopeful death. Another topic. You. I can't leave you because I'm too attached to you and that will break me. However, you and I will never truly be able to be actual good friends. We're just a physical pair of people that happen to be just friends. Beyond that. There isn't much for us.

After that night when you told me to give up on my dreams. You broke something in me. I haven't dreamt since. I've given up completely on everything. Threw out any plan I had and decided that if I ever get sad enough. I'll just die.

When I'm gone I'll finally be at peace. Allowed to dream on my own in the cosmos. Cosmic body untouched and unharmed. Nobody there to stop me.

I don't know how to end this really. But I loved you. When I could feel. I really did. Never feel like people didn't love you. Because your Bird did before he became this shell.

If this ghost of a self kills itself. Goodbye.

- J